


Requiem

by Somewhatinsane555555



Category: Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Cutting, Dark, Depression, Disturbing Themes, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pain, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somewhatinsane555555/pseuds/Somewhatinsane555555
Summary: You always struggled to hold on because truly what exactly did you have to live for?
Relationships: Dimēn | Dimentio/Mr. L
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Requiem

Death was a forest of graves, always waiting patiently to add your own to the pile. It mattered not whenever you were good or evil, or with power and might that stretched beyond the stars, Death came for us all, treating everyone as equal beings. 

You stopped scribbling out a note in your room. The words were not quite right. Then again, no words could ever perfectly explain to others why you would desire to end your life. 

Truly, you were very tired, within the walls of Castle Bleck you always were. You had lived three thousand years and seen the same cycle of hatred, war and death overtake the lands of flipside and flopside dozens of times. The flipsonians and flopsonians no matter how many history books they would read would find some new 'monster' to fear and proceed to launch a full-scale war in an attempt to eradicate it. Fear and misinformation always spread rapidly, and logic was thrown out the window in favor of making pariahs of the 'enemy'. You had seen this idiocracy repeat itself so much, you had given up breaking the cycle of societal hysteria that consisted of your current reality. Maybe if you weren't a coward, you would end your suffering. You were so damn lonely and it wasn't like you hadn't done the research. Unlike the masses, you actually did take the time to read. Naturally, an overdose appealed to you at first. Passing out into unconsciousness definitely was an appeal except for the likely outcome of waking up a little later in the process, failing miserably to die and vomiting the contents of your stomach out while heaving horrifically on the floor. And then the brain damage. The likely brain damage you would suffer upon failing, making your already demented mind more of a hellhole then it already is. 

You sigh, as the knife on your dresser intrudes into your thoughts, the object completely inanimate but still wanting to bother you. 

You could always just cut. I mean, you had kicked the habit a few years back before you left any permanent mark's but with the plans spiraling through your head it wouldn't matter soon. 

You snort at that thought.

Really you had to stop kidding yourself. You weren't going to go through with it. That's at least what you kept telling yourself. You'd had this conversation for years.

Despite the dozens of methods available to you, you weren't strong enough to see the end yet. 

You hated yourself for holding on like this, because maybe if you were just a bit stronger and maybe a bit bolder you could find some peace and quiet.

Really, you were hoping to find the strength to get this over with soon. 

You hated your existence and hated yourself more for not being able to end it.

_ You're just not that strong _

A few knocks on the door and you mask your emotions again, opening it up to see Mr. L staring back.

You aren't sure what this fool wants and frankly you were quite irritated to have your 'ritual' interrupted.

He seems concerned though as he looks back at you. 

"What do you want?"

You finally snap back, quite angry to he disturbed as of late. You were more then content to contemplate the methods that could lead you to your own demise, why now of all times did he feel the need to disturb you?

Mr. L still remains quiet. You then look to his hands. A note crunched up in them. 

The nerves sirening throughout your body had never seen so much fire. 

You curse lowly under your breath. You were certain that when you threw that note from across the kitchen it had reached the trashcan. 

You open your mouth but no sound comes out. 

Steadily you step back trying to close the door on his face only for him step forward and keep it open. Your next instinct is too teleport, anywhere you can think of for that matter and you nearly do that only to be tackled to the ground by him. 

He has you pinned now, your hands are held down by his own. You find yourself freaking out as you plead with him that if he must have this conversation with you today then please for all things holy please close the FUCKING DOOR!

Wordlessly he takes the bandanna from his eyes to temporarily tie your hands up. You hate the fact, that on a physical level you are too weak to fight back. You're hands are tied up and with that so is your magic. Satisfied the knot was tight enough, he momentarily leaves you to close the door to your relief. 

Once the door is shut he comes back though, carrying you off the ground as if he were rescuing a child from a tidal wave. 

He plops you on the bed and removes the bandana from around you. Instead he uses his own hands to keep yours still. 

You would be lying to yourself to say you weren't scared. Every person who found out about your 'ritual' never seemed to take it quite well. Ironically the knowledge seemed to destroy them, more than engaging in the ritual destroyed you. You knew writing that note in the kitchen was careless of all things, but the desire to die was so strong you really didn't want to wait till after you ate. You could vent to yourself during the dinner hour. It was not like anyone would look too closely at your cursive you reasoned. Who would really care after all?

Of course, your carelessness had whiplashed back in your face cause Mr. L of all people was here and the man's expression was stone cold.

Frankly, you were waiting for many things, to be yelled at, wailed at, screamed at, cursed at, and told off to the Overthere. Told off about how selfish you were, or maybe an angry rant about how he couldn't bare losing you. 

You just wanted this to be over with. 

His hands tremble over yours, as he gave a loud sigh. 

_ Well go on.  _

You thought.

Say whatever the fuck was on your mind. 

"Dimentio-"

That's how he started, seeming to keep his voice calm as he spoke. 

"How long has…"

He breathed in.

"This been going on."

Your hands twitch nervously in his. You were expecting to be drowned in an emotional rampage which all boiled down to "What the Underwhere were you thinking?"

But instead he was merely asking a question. You are shocked at how calm he is trying to be during this. Of all the reactions you were used too, you weren't used to someone being so calm. 

"Many years."

You stated as bluntly as a student answering a teacher's math question. 

It was not that you did not feel but rather you had learned the importance of keeping them hidden. Expressing your true emotions had never exactly gone well. You literally stopped upon it draining people too much during your youth. You merely kept them hidden under your mask instead. 

Mr. L looked you over, still not letting go of your hands. 

"Are you going too-"

"No."

You say bluntly, refusing to look at his eyes. 

"Then why-"

"A compulsion."

You finish. Still keeping your voice low. 

"When I become anxious, I think about dying and… fantasize how my end would come about. A mere ritual that occurs every few months. It's nothing unusual for me."

You had told him the truth granted, you left out a few details, one of them being how you would scrummage to this eventually. You could only will yourself away from going through with it for so long.

Mr. L still looked hesitant and frankly you didn't blame him. You barely trusted yourself to survive your sonata with death. Why the Underwhere would you expect Mr. L to be fine with this madness?

"I'm not comfortable leaving you alone."

He begins, lightly rubbing the palm of your hand with his fingers.

You aren't sure how to respond to this. 

What exactly did he plan to do if he stayed here? Sleep by your side?

You gave a loud sigh.

"Like an adventurer traveling through the harsh winds of a storm, I am more then content to handle my burdens alone L."

You know perfectly well this will not convince him. Still, you felt the need to remind him of your own agency. While suffering, you were not 'helpless' by any means.

Mr. L groaned, shaking his head. 

"There is no way you are 'content" like this. Let's be real Dimentio. You're 'surviving' at best. Eventually that pain is going to come and kill you if you don't breathe and let your emotions out.

He placed a hand on your mask.

"Take it from me."

He rubbed the right side of it with his fingers softly.

"You don't-"

You stuttered, breath hitching as you moved your face from his hand. 

"You don't understand."

His eyes meet yours still holding firm. 

He extends an arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt back to reveal a small mural of scars. 

"You sure about that?"

You aren't sure how to react to this reveal, Mr. L had no memory of his past why exactly was he-

"I've felt like a failure ever since I came here."

He finished, tracing the scars with his finger. 

"I don't have powers, or strength, or skill for that matter and you, you have all the magic you could ever want."

He pulled the sleeve back over his arm. 

"I took it out on myself every day. 

He placed his hands in yours again. 

"Especially when I lost to the heros. I made one cut for every day that's passed since their defeat. I won't stop until I redeem myself. I won't stop until they are destroyed for good."

His grip on your hands tightened.

"But even with that, I won't let you keep this pain inside you. Especially when it's suffocating you to the point where ending your life is now on the table."

You flinch slightly.

"It's not-"

"Now...would it l-like help if I hugged you?"

He didn't even bother to acknowledge your reply leaving you only with a simple offer. 

You aren't sure what exactly you're supposed to say. You had spent years learning emotional control and couldn't bare to lose it as easily as a young child losing a toy. 

He looks genuinely worried for you though, his eyes without his bandanna on showing compassion, dare he say care of all things. 

"That…"

_ Would be the death of me. _

You think, trailing off as you can't quite get the words out. 

He places a hand on your shoulder, looking at your mask. His other hand reaches out wanting to see what's underneath it. You really should recoil by now. Your hands were free. You could simply snap them and slip away.

Well maybe if you got away from Mr. L. Right now you were so close to him you'd merely take him with you. 

You hold your breath, frozen as he leans in slowly.

_ Move! _

Your mind screams, demanding to get out of this only to find him pulling you forward into his embrace. 

At first it's ok, the pressure on your back makes you feel somewhat secure and you don't feel anything too intense. After a few moments though, you find yourself feeling tense, a solid pool of liquid weighing down your eyes. You start to feel smothered as he runs a hand through your back. 

Still, you don't fight back, afraid of the million things that could go wrong if you show weakness. 

You didn't want to break but as you remained wrapped around him the metaphorical dam keeping all your emotions safely trapped inside you was threatening to crack.

You're shaking but he only shakes his head and wraps around you tighter.

_ Its ok _ ,

He whispers and you aren't sure what to say to that. 

_ Please don't keep it in. _

You're breath is hitching, you felt like a cornered mouse. Every signal in your body was urging you to get out. 

Except the stupid one in your heart, and stupidly you found yourself listening to that stupid one of all things as it asked you to stay.

_ I got you.  _

All your life no one 'had' you or even began to knew what you needed. Your eyes were welling up, what was wrong with you? You wanted to hiss at him. Weren't you supposed to stay numb?

His hands rubbing your back felt so good though, if it wasn't threatening to release your emotions you might have been able to relax more. 

You still were so so scared though. On one hand, you wanted to let him take the weight off your shoulders, on the other hand, you didn't want to lose control. You didn't want to feel like you had none.

You're trying desperately to breath as a few tears are coming out. Your shakes have turned to full out tremors as you realize not only what's happening but the fact it can't be stopped. 

Inevitably, you find yourself curling your head into him. Burying yourself as wave after wave of sob hits you. As traumatic as it was, you couldn't help but feel good to know you were finally letting everything out. You feel his hand run through your hair and keep your arms around him for dear life. 

"Don't go…"

You plead into his shirt staining it with your tears. 

You hadn't done this since you were young. You were literally begging him as you wailed to stay. 

He lowers you onto the bed so the two of you are lying down. 

As you cried, you couldn't help but feel the weight that had held you down for years grow lighter. 

A part of you was saying he'll be gone tommorow, but you ignored it, your whole body acting on mere instincts. 

Your were finally having an emotional release and ironically the instincts in your body had switched from let go to hold on. Hold on to this man comforting you. Hold on to the safety of his warmth and hold on to living as you remained close to him. 

After a good thirty minutes of crying you find your eyes closing and with frail hands you are keeping Mr. L near you. Terrified to be alone as everything inside of you threatens to come undone. 

_ I'm not going anywhere. _

He says leaning over to kiss your forehead.

You shudder at that and give him a weak nod. 

You're eyes are closing and it was likely you would have a lot more to explain when you woke up but for now, you felt ok. 

You let yourself drift off, heavy breathing slowing down as the fatigue from crying finally hits you.

Hesitantly you allow yourself to believe that he's really going to stay.

A part of you knows though that either way makes no difference. 

You were losing the war and compassion alone was not going to release you from your fate. It was only a matter of time now. A matter of time until the last of your will to live faded away. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ok


End file.
